


Part Two

by itsaspnthing



Series: Black Eyed Dreams [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Demonic Possession, F/M, Gags, Kidnapping, Manipulative Crowley (Supernatural), Possessed Reader, Possession, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester, Restraints, crowley - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-11-06 16:29:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17943224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsaspnthing/pseuds/itsaspnthing





	Part Two

“Too busy inflicting pain to answer,” the rugged British voice hummed through Sam’s speaker and he hung up once he realizes he got sent to voicemail. 

“No answer from Crowley,” Sam said as he walked through the motel room to collect his belongings that were scattered about. “Any word from Cas?” 

“This is my voicemail, make your voice…” and Dean quickly pressed the end button on his phone as well. “Bubkis,” he responded.

Dean woke his younger brother up the moment he realized you were gone, and a tired, confused Sam quickly arose from his sleep to help his brother pack up the Impala. He was devastated. If he had just stayed awake and not let you out of his sight, no one would have ever taken you. He blamed himself, even though Dean insisted that this wasn’t his fault. 

They had the car packed in five minutes, maybe even less. The two brothers were up against the clock, and they did not plan on wasting another precious second. Every second counted. 

You stood in the middle of the dingy, dungeon-esque room, candles lit all throughout. You were still half naked from your endeavours with Sam, clad in pink boy-short panties and one of his t-shirts. You closed your eyes once you realized you should have put a bra on when you got dressed. Of course, you didn’t expect to see the King of Hell pop up in your motel room, let alone zap you to his “palace,” which seemed more like a warehouse. 

Your nipples had forsaken you as the coldness of the damp room caused them to pop through the fabric of your lovers t-shirt. You quickly brought your arms across your breasts, feeling far to exposed in front of Crowley, and his minions. 

“Darling,” you turned to face Crowley as he spoke to you, the look of confusion draped over your face. He sat on his throne with one leg crossed over his knee and a glass of scotch in his hand that was draped over the arm of the chair. 

You didn’t speak, you just stood in the same spot, still facing him. He noticed you were uncomfortable when your eyes met with the two well dressed demons standing behind him. You brought one of the arms that was pressed against your chest to cover your crotch. Crowley was harmless, he would never try to sleep with you, but you didn’t trust his sketchy yes men as they looked at you. “Don’t worry about them, pet,” he shooed them away, and they left without saying a word. “Just focus on me.” 

The lump in your throat finally dissipated as you stepped towards the rogue King of Hell. There was a little too much pep in your step for his liking, so he immediately put his hand up, forcing you to stop dead in your tracks. “Crowley!” You shouted, the aggravation audible in your voice. “Have you completely lost it?” 

“Spare me the melodrama,” he put his hand back down, but you were still stuck in place. “Your lack of poetry bores me.” 

You rolled your eyes and lifted your arms up to flap them back down to the sides of your legs. “My lack of poetry,” you scoffed, mimicking him. “What do you want, Crowley?” 

“I have a proposition for you,” he uncrossed his legs so his feet were planted firmly on the ground, gripping on the arms of his throne to stand up. He buttoned up his tailored jacket when he stood, walking towards the small bar with a clear bottle of brown liquor and 3 glasses, the fourth was in his hand. He was going for a refill. 

The motor to the Impala purred as Dean drove well over the speed limit. He and Sam continued to call Crowley and Cas. They were heading towards Crowley’s warehouse. They had a feeling that he was behind this. 

“So help me God Sam, if he does anything to hurt Y/N,” Dean gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles at the thought of you getting hurt. 

Sam looked out the window, deep in thought. He didn’t think Crowley had anything to do with this. “Dean, I think we’re barking up the wrong tree here.” 

“Really?” Dean furrowed his brow and left his mouth open in the shape of the last syllable he spoke, looking at Sam in disbelief. “With Rowena missing, probably ran off with Lucifer somewhere,” he focused his eyes back to the highway, “he thinks we had something to do with her going missing.” 

“So,” Sam paused to think for a minute, but he knew Dean had a good point, “he thinks that we took something of his.” 

“And he wouldn’t think twice to take something of ours,” Dean responded quickly. 

“Only problem with that theory is that Crowley hates Rowena.” 

“Not when he needs something from her.” Dean looked at Sam once more, waiting for him to find a sensible argument, but Sam knew his brother was right. 

Lucifer was on the run, and in order to avoid disaster, the Winchesters needed to try and find a way to get him back in the cage. Rowena would have been a huge help, but no one knew where she was. 

“Proposition?” You scoffed and rolled your eyes and Crowley paused from pouring more scotch in his glass, looking up at you with displeasure. 

“It something funny, Y/N?”

You looked up at the cobweb filled ceiling, stunned that he believed that somehow you could help him. You lifted your arm at the elbow in a questioning manner, running through possibilities in your head but you couldn’t think of anything. “Well, I mean,” you stared at him, puzzled, “what could I possibly help you with Crowley?” 

He lazily pointed at you, keeping his grip on the scotch glass with his other fingers. “See, that’s where you’re wrong, dear.” 

You didn’t respond. You knew he was about to go on one of his spiels that could have easily been explained in one sentence, but he always had to go above and beyond, showing off his impressive vocabulary. 

“Y/N, you are aware the Lucifer, the one who your perfect, precious, all-days-are-good-hair-days Sam Winchester was locked in a cage with, is loose?” 

You nodded. 

“And you are aware that my mother, Rowena, about yay high,” he brought his free hand up to his chest, pointing his hand outward to show the height of his mother, “always wearing copious amounts of glittery eyeshadow, is missing as well, yes?” 

You nodded once more, wishing he would just get with the program and tell you what he wants from you. 

“I know that you and your denim wrapped lovers have her couped up in your little love nest.” He was referring to the dungeon at the bunker. 

“Crowley,” you closed your eyes and gestured with his hands for him to stop talking, “just stop.” He opened his mouth to say something but you quickly cut him off. “Stop, I’m not listening to this. It’s absurd and doesn’t make any sense.” 

“Well, there’s only one way to find out, sweetheart.” He smirked and nodded for one of his minions to enter the room once more. The tall, dark haired demon approached you and you had enough trust in Crowley to hope he wouldn’t try and pull a stunt. That same trust was quickly ripped away once the demon grabbed you a pulled you into the room behind Crowley’s throne. The room was warded on the windows, and there was one item in the whole room - a chair. 

You fought the demon as Crowley watched with a blank look on his face. You kicked and screamed as he swiftly lifted you up off the cold floor and threw you on the chair and quickly secured your wrists in the restraints. “You mother fucker!” You screamed at Crowley when the door shut loudly with a clang. 

Your screams did not cease and the King of Hell was beginning to get irritated. He slammed the glass of aged alcohol down on the table next to his throne and got up. “Bloody hell!” He exclaimed, his voice echoing through the large room. 

He opened the door to the room you were trapped in, smiling smugly at you. “Y/N, those screams may work for Moose and Squirrel but not me.” He walked towards you and crouched down and put a cloth in your mouth, trying it around your head. “This is going to stay here, and the next time you’re going to speak, is when you tell me where my mother is.” 

He shut the door, and you cried into the makeshift gag that tasted like mold. Your legs were cold against the rusty metal, and the leather restraints were digging at your wrists. You didn’t want to look down, but you were almost positive that the restraints had broken the skin. 

“Little fucking hellion,” Crowley sat back down on his throne, taking a deep breath. 

Your cries and screams were muffled by the gag. Your only hope was that Sam and Dean were smart enough to find you, which they were. 

“Sir,” a second demon walked into Crowley’s throne room hastily, somewhat panicked. “It’s the Winchesters.”

“Bollocks.” Crowley whispered, throwing his head back, resting against the red velvet of his throne. He had to act quickly, because if your boys saw you restrained and gagged, he would’ve quickly found a demon-knife plunged into his chest. 

“We have to act quickly, my lord.” The demon that was standing behind him, the same one who manhandled you into your restraints said. 

“Don’t!” Crowley shouted, but quickly gained his composure and calmly restated. “Don’t tell me what I need to do, I know.” He ran his cold, dry hand down his face and through his salt and pepper beard. He wasn’t sure what to do, so he stuck with the plan. The plan was just slightly expedited. 

You must have dozed off because you snapped out of a light slumber as Crowley opened the door and walked in, the same demon yes man following closely behind him. 

“Right,” he clapped his hands together and rested them at his crotch. “Change of plans, dear.” You didn’t speak, you just stared at him with rage and your blood boiled. “This is Cleon, and I’m sure the two of you are going to get well acquainted very, very soon.” 

You tilted your head and raised your eyebrow in confusion as Crowley pulled the gag down and let it rest around your neck. “See you on the flip side darling.” 

He walked backwards, away from you and Cleon. He watched intently as his demon lackey threw his head back and opened his mouth as wide as he could. 

“Crowley, no!” You screamed as the black smoke entered your mouth. It burned your throat and you felt like you were choking on your own vomit. You couldn’t fight it. It was too late. 

You had no peripheral vision now, but what you could see was crystal clear. You tried to speak but nothing came out. It was like you were trapped in a glass case. 

“Do you remember the plan?” Crowley asked you. And just when you went to respond, something else came out. 

“I remember, sir,” 

Crowley smiled with triumph when your eyes flashed black, and back to normal. 

“Let’s get this show on the road,” he said as he undid the restraints of the now meat suit that was your body.


End file.
